It’s very easy to discover your inner cynic in Japan. I’ve been here almost a year now, and I can
feel some measure of pessimism building in my veins. Before I go any further, I’ll start with a disclaimer
of sorts: I don’t, for a second, feel
any disappointment about coming here.
Japan has given me everything I could have possibly asked for when deciding
where my next destination would be a year ago.
As I have continuously written in many a past post, every little thing
is different. That was exactly what I
wanted to experience when I left. So in
traditional blessing/curse fashion, I got what I wished for.
There are small things (see previous “Micro-aggressions”
post) that will continue to eat away at your optimism the longer you are
here. Only one affects me thus far: “Oh! You can use chopsticks!”
I’m not sure why this question gets under my skin so effectively,
but it does. Just last weekend, while at
dinner with friends, a woman across the table asked me three separate times if I can use the little devils known here as hashi.
The first time, I brushed it off without a thought. The second, I looked her in the eye and
nodded along with my “yes, I can.” The
third time, I did much the same. It wasn’t
until our meals arrived that the woman pushed me over the line. As I grabbed my hashi and started going to town she belted a loud “segoi!!!” (Japanese equivalent to wow!),
complete with an applause. I set my
chopsticks down, turned to her and asked, “Can you use a fork?” She looked at me with a confused expression and
slightly tilted puppy face and replied, “Hai.” Since sarcasm is not a cultural norm in this
society and it is nearly impossible to translate, I’m sure the woman had no
idea why I had asked such a ridiculous question of her. After thinking it through, I think I’m happy that’s
the case.
I have since questioned my action here. It is my goal as well as my responsibility to
respectfully adhere to the culture of my host country. I’m sure this woman was, in some way,
honestly impressed by my ability to finesse her continent’s culinary tool of
choice. Even so, my patience has begun
to wear a bit thin. Such a feeling is a major part of doing what we do and, in many ways, why we do it in the first
place. Japan is a flawed country. America is a flawed country. Lichtenstein is a flawed country. The uniqueness of the negative traits is what
allows you to truly get to know a place.
It’s not a trip to Japan if you don’t feel the pressure of being in the
minority. So many of us, me included,
have no real concept of what this feels like.
Foreigners in Japan will find themselves the helpless victim on some front. Experiences like this are inevitable.
There are phases that all travelers will experience when
living abroad. That is a well-documented
fact. Personality, prior experience, and
preparation can all ease the drastic shock, but every person will experience
highs and lows. It’s part of the
fun. Don’t let this scare you away from
traveling because experiencing and overcoming adversity is the only way you’ll
come home feeling different than when you left.
You’ll feel like you have a little more idea of what makes the world the
way it is. While I become more aware of the
injustices experienced in one of the wealthiest, most stable, and safest
countries on the planet, I can’t help but notice how similar things can often
be in my own country. We have all been
on the opposite side of that chopstick conversation at some point in our
lives. One might argue it’s only right
that expats endure the signature Japanese naïve (or sometimes ill-intended) condescension once for every
time we felt superior for sitting at the cool table in junior high or quickly shunned a person because their English was elementary. Without a doubt, Japan continues to surprise
me. For every arrogant, condescending, or impatient person I come across, I can easily name
ten of the kindest, most selfless souls I could have ever hoped to meet in my
life. It takes only 12 seconds with one
of these people to absolve you of any anger or contempt you may develop at the
immigration office, at a restaurant that refuses to serve gaijin or the local driving center.
For every moment you feel like Rosa Parks, you’ll have five that you
feel like Brad Pitt and ten that you’ll feel like you just hugged a Care Bear. That is what is so unique about these people:
they both admire and fear Westerners.
Like all countries, there are both shiny and rotten apples. It’s just important to take the good with the
bad and realize that it will only make your experience more real. I both
love and despise aspects of this country, but very rarely do I feel any negativity
for more than a few minutes. Japan has
shown me some of its deepest flaws and left me feeling more lost and helpless than ever before but I can’t help but feel thankful for
it.
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